Of Blood and Tears
by TheIncredibleDancingBetty
Summary: Splinter arrives home to a horrendous scene. What will he do next? Splinter POV WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH, GORE 2nd place fanfic winner of Best Angst, Best Horror, Best Death. 1st place fanfic winner Best Splinter Scene 2006
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Alright. As a warning, this is my first attempt at an angst story. Really angsty. Repeat: IT WILL BE GORY/BLOODY! It will be more than one chapter long, but probably no more than five chapters tops so it'll be short. It is also my first attempt at a Splinter POV. Please let me know if I'm doing this right or if I need to improve on it! I love it when I can fine tone a POV writing style to match the character exactly. I've been commended on my Raph, Don, and Leo POV along with OC so I hope that I can do this next hairy challenge! Plus I mostly depend on the DVD's for my TMNT viewing pleasure so they are still in the first Lair, I don't know what their next one looks like.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chapter 1

Coming Home

Sometimes I wonder about all the things that we are blessed with in this life. And the people who choose not to accept these blessings or to take them for what they really are. I see families torn apart on the streets because they cannot realize that they are their greatest asset and gift. It is the gift of each other. Of family. I sometimes pity the people who feel that way, who simply cannot see what is in front of them. But I must be on my way to see my own four blessings and gifts. I am separated from the outside world because of what I am, and as much as I would like to help those poor people, there are some things that they must learn and realize for themselves. Learn their own lessons.

I am thinking these thoughts once again as I travel through the sewers. I often allow my mind to wander at such moments. I am still alert and oriented to my surroundings, but there are times when I need to be by myself. Alone time, I believe that it is called.

Naturally I love my sons dearly, in fact however harsh they may think of me sometimes I truly adore them. They are my life. It is just that sometimes, on one of the many occasions when their energy level exceeds my own, I begin to feel a bit stressed. I have lived with them for the fifteen years of thier lives, and it seems like every day each of them carry double my own energy level and at night sometimes it is all I can do but to fall into bed. I cannot say that it has been easy raising four sons on your own with no previous training of my own. A few times I had truly wished that I could've gotten that training ahead of time so that I wouldn't have made so many mistakes, but things ended out fine in the end.

After all my sons are all I have. As I said before they are my life.

I spy out of the corner of my eye a blanket that someone left behind. I pick it up for inspection. We already have better ones for sleeping with, and the fabric is rather harsh. Perhaps I could use it to give their fighting dummy a new skin. The stuffing is coming out in too many places with it's current skin as it is. Satisfied I roll it into a manageable bundle and place it in my bag along with my other finds. Having Ms. Oneil and Mr. Jones in our lives may have made it easier to get better quality goods, but I feel that the need to search for items will never be quite vanquished.

A smile creeps upon my lips as I approach the door to our lair. Alone time is all good and well, but I truly feel the need to get back with my sons. Besides, my favorite soap opera is going to come on within the hour. And my arthritis is acting up a bit as well.

The moment I touch the door a terrible feeling overwhelms me with such suddenness that it is all I can do not to fall to my knees. My heart is pounding and my muscles grow weak. My breath comes in short, quick gasps and my throat tightens in a panic. All my fur raises on end and bristles. My ears flick nervously and my nose trembles in the still air. I thwap my tail against the pavement and reach for the door once more. My hand is trembling. What is going on?

That smell, I recognize that smell. No, smells. There are many of them. Too many. I cannot sort through them all, and they are masked by the ever present smell of the sewer waters. One or two seem to stab at my nose more than any of the others. Something tells me that I should know these...

Finally the door opens. The air hits me like nothing I've ever experienced before. Choking slightly, I drop everything that I'm carrying and take a shaky step forward. The air is putrid. Vile. It is thick with the acrid, coppery stench of death. Of blood. Something hits my hand and in a daze I look at it. It is a tear. I touch my face. I did not realize that I was crying. But why?

The air is thick. Alert even in this moment, I know for certain that there is no one in the lair. No one.

Then it hits me, tearing through my dazed shock like a wild animal. MY SONS!

Frantically I rush forward, stumbling and grasping at the air. "MY SONS! WHERE ARE YOU!" My heart tightened and convulsed in panic as I screamed for them. I'm still gagging at the stench hanging in the air like a heavy blanket. Blood. Death. No...

I see the first figure immediately. A still form lies in the corner. Near the couch. I freeze for a split second then rush over to him, practically tripping over my feet doing so. I fall at the side of his body, next to the orange bandana tails. My dearest Michelangelo. With a trembling hand, I gently grasp his shoulder and turn him around. I stiffle a gag at the site. Instead I choke, and I feel fresh tears spill down my cheeks. They drip on his face. His beautiful, loving face. He's smiling. A small smile. It still plays his lips. His eyes are still open, staring sightlessly into nothing. There's a remote control clasped in his hand, a finger poised over the button. The knot in my throat gets bigger, choking me.

With a trembling hand I slowly stroked his cheek, stopping short of the gaping wound on his neck, opening his throat up from ear to ear. Pulling a small blanket from the couch I gently placed it over his body, hiding the tremendous puddle of blood on the floor, hiding where they sliced his throat, so that all I can see is his smiling face. With loving caress I close his eyes. They open back up slightly, as though he's looking at me slyly, ready to play another joke.

I knew what had happened. They had gotten him first, as he watched television, before he even had a chance to defend himself. What kind of dishonorable fiend had done this! I look shakily around the area. The televisions are still on. Some cartoon plays on their flat, cold screens. The screens are spattered with Michelangelo's blood, the joyful characters smile and make people laugh through the haze of red surrounding them. It is like a sick joke.

The blood on the wall is in an arc, pumped from arteries before he finally landed on the floor and bled to death. Such a way to die...My eyes are blurry with tears as I slowly lean forward and kiss his cheek, brushing his skin with my sensitive whiskers. This is no right. He should not feel so cold, such a warm, vibrant, joyful person feeling so cold...

I spy the footprints and immediately search for the source. The battle plays out in my mind. They sneak up and dishonorably kill my Michelangelo without a fight, I see their footprints smearing the floor with his blood behind the couch. But they were disturbed. Perhaps Michelangelo managed to make a noise, warn them somehow. There is a faint edge of footprints on the end of the blood splatter. Two toes. One of my sons.

Looking at Michelangelo forlornly, I give him a final kiss before shakily getting up to follow the trail. It leads straight into the lab. Donatello.

As if they knew what I was thinking, I see a green foot on the corner. Hurriedly I rush forward. My heart skips as I see him. He seems sprawled so...carelessly. One hand still resting on the counter, he laid in the narrow aisle way, his head propped up on the wall behind him. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth was slightly agape. A neat little hole was set in the middle of his forehead. Blood and brain matter were smeared on the wall behind him. I stood there, frozen for a moment before I finally managed to scramble forward and touch my son. I tripped over his legs and his bostaff before finally reaching his face. I cupped his cheeks with both hands and rubbed my cheek against his forehead, sobbing silently.

It seems so ironic, that someone so precise could be thrown so carelessly to the floor. That someone so intelligent would be shot in the head. I did not even wish to see the hole in the back of his skull. I could feel his head squish into the wall as it was. With the same sort of gentle caress I closed his eyes as I did Michelangelo's. They stayed shut.

His bostaff was laid across his chest. It was then that I felt another presence, not now but before. Perhaps he was not thrown carelessly. I peered at the bostaff, wiping my eyes with a bloodstained paw. The last few inches of the end of the weapon were red with blood. I could smell from where I was sitting that it was not Donatello's blood. It was not the smell of anyone that I knew. The cabinets on the far corner were broken, black fabric clung to the jagged egdes. I realized what happened.

An odd sort of gratuity fluttered in my heart that I knew that he did not go down alone. Obviously they had since carried the body off but Donatello had gotten one of them nonetheless despite their having superior weapons. I embraced my son. Not for what he did or how he did it but for who he was, who he never would get a chance to be again.

As much as I was loathe to leave him as I did my Michelangelo, I knew that I must to see what had become of my other sons, though I had a horrible, shaking feeling that there fates were no better.

I saw the blood before I completely stepped out of the lab. I could smell some of Raphael's and Leonardo's but the vast majority of it was of nameless, unknown enemies. This was not just told in scents. I could see blood splatter, and pools of blood formed in the figure of bodies before they were carried away by the surviving attackers. A pride in my sons rose bitterly.

I saw Raphael first. Lying facedown by the pool. Blood was still trickling into it, staining the waters. I slowly crept up to him. He was lying in a pool of his own, of his own blood. I touched his shoulder as I had already done before to his brother. It was already getting cold, but he still had some remnants of warmth in him. He had died more recently. I swallowed hard as yet another lump formed in my throat. Slowly but firmly, I turned him over as well. I couldn't help but flinch and gag at the sight of him. A shudder went through my body. My son, taken out so...violently! Surley they could have stopped at one point! Yet despite the ravages of his body his face wore an unnerving peaceful expression. His eyes were closed calmly and his mouth was relaxed. It was almost as if he was just sleeping. He went with peace. He went with honor.

He was shot and stabbed repeatedly throughout his chest, legs, and arms. Most of the wounds were on his plastron, so that it didn't even look like a plastron any more. I wondered if he had any more of the substance left to hold everything in. I could see his insides. Slowly I turned my head away from the scene below his shoulder and concentrated on his face. His sweet face. With a trembling paw I slowly stroked his forehead, his cheeks, pinched his chin, and kissed his nose. He hated that. Always did. The thought brought a fresh onslaught of tears to wrack my system. I had to take a deep breath and use a moment to recover myself before smiling at his relaxed figure once more.

Well, relaxed might not be the best word to describe it. Both sai were still clenched tightly in his fists. One was imbedded so deeply into the floor that it didn't move and his arm turned with it. Slowly I surveyed the scene as I had done before and saw what was perhaps the reason for the decimation on his body. He just wouldn't die.

He was first wounded over in the far corner. I can see the blood spatter, I know it's his. He was wounded more severely about two meters from there and fell the first time. Judging from the footprints he managed to get up and attack once more, where he was once again subject to a lethal wound. This was about fifteen feet from where he lay now. He dragged himself. I could see the slow, steady streaks of blood quite clearly. He had dragged himself with his sai before either bleeding out or being wounded once more. He had died fighting.

I hugged his face with my paws, pressing my forehead to his. My shoulders were shaking. My dear son. My dear, dear warrior son. You always had wished to go out fighting, at least you were granted this one final request.

Slowly, almost mechanically I got up and continued forward on the search. My tail dragged on the floor carelessly and my shoulders drooped. I looked at my hands. They had the blood from three sons staining them. I still had one more son to find.

I do not know how I could have missed it. He was so close. Only across the main room.

There was Leonardo, my last son, lying on his back, propped up against a pillar. I rushed over to him, eager to touch his skin once more. I felt his foot first, one of them was stretched out. It was still slightly warm. For a moment expectation thrilled deep in my heart as I took in the scene in the last two steps to reach his face. It wasn't as grisly as his brothers. He was wounded, and he was sitting in blood, but it did not look like as much and his wounds did not appear to be lethal. His head lolled to one side and his eyes were closed peacefully. He appeared to be unconscious. The markings on the pillar above him pointed to him being thrown against it. Perhaps he was still alive!

Hastily I grabbed his shoulders and brought him forward to me. I was shocked as I did so. His body came with me but his head didn't. It slid apart from his body in a sickening slurping sound. The moment that his neck cleared it dropped to the ground and rolled several feet from us.

I was so startled that I let go of his shoulders and he slumped back against the pillar, minus his head. A katana slid out of his lifeless hand and onto the floor. I sat back for a moment, aghast at what had just happened. I repeatedly stared from his head to his body and back again. The head was lying next to his other katana, red with his own blood. He was decapitated by his own sword.

It was too much.

With a strangled cry I staggered back and tripped before running again. I ran straight into the corner where there was no blood, there was no death, I was alone. I screamed. Clenching my fists so hard that my claws dug into my palms I screamed. I screamed and pounded my head with my fists. I screamed and kicked, tail flying everywhere. I screamed and punched my eyes with my fists until I saw stars. I screamed and bit my lip until it bled. Finally I just screamed to scream before the scream was turned into a mournful wail as the shock wore off and the realization of what just happened sank in.

My sons had been murdered. I was alone. My life had been murdered. My boys. My beautiful baby boys.

Squeazing my eyes shut I shuddered a loud sob as I spilled my tears onto the floor. Slumping in the corner alone I cried, sobbing so hard that the tears completely soaked through my fur. I couldn't believe it. My baby boys. My beautiful baby boys. Sorrow so deep touched my soul, touched my heart, I couldn't stand the pain. The fury. The disbelief.

My baby boys, my babies. I could hear their giggling, I could hear their fights and finally them crying because one had 'accidently' pushed the other. I could feel their tiny, sticky hands tugging at my fur, asking for more cake on their birthdays. Thier squeals of joy as they first tore open their simple gifts. Their wonder at watching me practice martial arts and finally asking to join in. My wonder as they learned ninjitsu like they had been born to it, and they were. Michelangelo laughing at a new toy or getting one of his brothers angry. Donatello as he explored another world entirely in the world of science and technology. Raphael as he threw his little tantrums and his pouting as he got punished for them. Leonardo concentrating so hard to get his ninjitsu moves just right as the rest of my sons were playing games.

I could see them all before me as I had always seen them, plain as day. As my babies. My beautiful little baby boys.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A/N: Alright, I know that I had set up an ad for a beta reader but once I finished this story I just couldn't help but cast it online. The cast is still open for beta reader, I'll just save it for future chapers.

Soooooooo...how'd you like it? I wanted to try to get some tearful responses and typed my heart out. Please let forward any ideas that you may have. How'd I do on Splinter, BTW? Let me know if you're thinking M rating, but this is about as gory as it will get. There will be some chapters with the same amount of blood and stuff but none more than this.

Toodles!


	2. Preparation

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Here is the second chappie! I would like to thank rockpaperscissor for beta reading it for me. I hope that you guys like it well enough and think that it still fits into the contexts of Splinter's character.

Chapter 2

Preparation

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I tied the last thong, glad that the board was there so that his head did not loll. The thought of that still made me shudder.

A warm hand was on my shoulder. It did not seem to be there, my skin was numb and refused to acknowledge it. So I did nothing. A tense moment went by, but sure enough, the hand slid off.

Before, I would have been appalled at being so cold to someone, especially when they're trying to comfort me at this time. Before, I would have handled things differently.

Before, I would have been the one to comfort the others.

But this wasn't before - it was after. And now that it happened, and it no longer was an absent thought, I did not think it odd at all. It wasn't rude or perhaps it was, but in any case I did not care.

Better that they not get involved.

My sons were dead. Dead!

I slowly started to lift the first one. Immediately hands appeared and came to my aid, helping me lift the body of my son onto the pile. I did not say a word. I did not even acknowledge their presence. There was no need - there was no reason, no thought to that action.

They assisted me in carrying the other three bodies to the pile. There I arranged them with care, neatly lying side by side and wrapped in the canvas bags that I had sewn for them.

The bodies had been cleaned by my own hands with painstaking care. I had fashioned a special board for Leonardo to lie on, securely tying both his head and his body so that he would go to peace intact - I had at first considered sewing him and his disjointed head together, but quickly discovered that I had neither the stomach nor the heart for the task.

Then I wrapped them, and only then did I call Ms. O'Neil and Mr. Jones.

I did not tell them what they would find when they came. The words would not come out yet, although I did manage to convey some sense of urgency. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it was cruel, but once again, I simply did not care enough.

Their shock was considerable, but they hid it well, trying to be strong for me, I suppose. It was considerate of them. My eyes, swollen with tears, and the blood I had still not washed from my paws must have been all too apparent.

Ms. O'Neil could not hide her tears, though. She kept a straight face but nonetheless could not hide how they ran down her cheeks. After a mumbled excuse no one really listened to, Mr. Jones left the room for quite some time. But I understood - when he came back, his face was red, eyes swollen, and his knuckles bleeding.

They were going to be burned. Their spirits, rising to the heavens.

Donatello's friends at the floating junkyard were happy to oblige an area where we could be alone. They shook my bloody hand. Offered their condolences.

I do not care for condolences.

The others quickly sensed my mood and made no other move to comfort me. Just as well. I needed the pent-up emotion; I needed the bottled sorrow and anger. They alone would be my driving force for my next action.

I had brought all of my incense with me to the burial. I had quite a lot. Some years back my sons had managed to 'acquire' quite a bit of a spicy wooden incense that I particularly enjoyed. I think they had stolen an entire tree and splintered it, just for my use.

All gone. I covered their bodies and the edges of the wooden pile with this as well.

In their shrouds they were to be burned with everything on them - their masks, their belts, their little communication devices, everything.

That is, except for their weapons. I would need those, to disperse the grief within my soul.

Silently I wondered if I would have the courage to do so when the time came. The one weapon that I could not keep was Leonardo's katana. Only one, that I could not bear to touch.

The one that those ingrates had used to cut his head off.

But in the end, duty was greater than my dismay. I could hardly bring myself to touch it, but could hardly let him leave this world without the wretched thing. So I put that in the shroud with him, as a testament of what I should do for him - no, of what I will do for him.

Without saying a word to any of the humans present, I slowly walked over to the torch and took it from the homeless human professor. It was already lit. I looked him squarely in the eye, letting him know that I wanted to do this. Something about my stare must have frightened him, for he took a few steps back before bowing his head and giving it to me.

I considered putting the flame out and relighting it myself but I decided against it. There would be no use in such a gesture. No use at all.

Slowly I walked over to the pile where the four covered remains of my sons were. With the same timed slowness I lowered the burning  
torch to the wood. The shrouds, splattered with lighter fluid courtesy of Mr. Jones, immediately lit in a blaze. The tongues  
of fire licked their bodies, covering what was left of my sons with a keen, blistering head of flame. It lit the surrounding wood as well.

I stepped back. The entire top was lit in flame now. I could hardly make out the bodies of my sons through the reds, oranges and yellows.

At first I had wanted to set them out to sea in this fashion, but once again prudence intervened. I felt a burning hatred at the humans,  
that I was not even allowed to have a funeral for my sons as I wished it simply because we were different from them. Instead I had to have them burned on a filthy garbage barge.

Insolent humans. True, the humans we knew had been kind enough to clean out the area of the trash surrounding it, but I could still smell the filthy garbage.

My fists tightened around my walking stick. Their blood was still on my paws.

I heard Ms. O'Neil break into a sob behind me. I spared them a glance. She was leaning on Mr. Jones shoulder, keening. Her shoulders shook violently.

His eyes were not clear either. I could see tears welling in his blue eyes and coursing down his cheeks as he looked silently upon  
the burning bodies. The light of the flames reflected off of their human skin as if in some sick dance.

The other humans that my sons knew were there as well. The child, Angel was there. She was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees and sobbing furiously into her arms. All the humans that owned the barge were there of course, not a  
single one of them with a dry eye.

For a moment my heart felt somewhat lighter at the thought of all these friends. This wasn't all of them, either. There simply had not been time to call them. I'm sure, for instance, that Usagi would like to come, but unfortunately the problem of my species interferes with it again.

I have no access to original burial practices. There would be no embalming. No preserving of the bodies with professional care. No pretty casket. As much as I hated thinking about it, my sons would start to decompose within a few days. As  
much as I would want all their friends to be there, waiting was out of the question.

I would want to have them put to rest in this manner in any case. It is more traditional for me. And this way there would be no way that their bodies could be subject to any sort of experimentation. The mere thought of it curdled the blood in my veins.

Selfish bastards.

Finally I turned to look at the flames myself. I could feel the heat of the fire from where I was standing. I simply stared at it, at the tongues of flame twisting and dancing upon the bodies of my sons so joyfully, it was like almost as if they were mocking my grief.

The smoke rose and filled my senses. I could detect the smell of burning flesh, wood and my incense all in one breath. I could hear the crackling of the flames, the cackling of wood and flesh, crisping grotesquely in the night air. It was like a bad dream.

My heart felt empty and full at the same time. It was devoid of any emotion, yet contained so much of it that I felt as though it were about to burst. That might be an odd description, but regardless of strangeness it was true nevertheless.

Above all, it hurt. It hurt like nothing that I've ever felt before.

It hurt.

I could feel the lump in my throat ready to choke me, the tears awaiting to come so desperately they burned holes into my eyes, the shuddering of my muscles, threatening to give way at any moment.

But I wouldn't succumb to any of those temptations. No. I could not. Once again I tried to look forward to the time ahead, to the seppuku. I would go with honor and leave my body lying amongst the refuse. There was no reason to go on anymore. No reason but the one burning in my head. The one that I must carry out to regain my honor. To keep my sonsâ€™ honor. That is all that matters.

Yes, all that matters.

I sighed heavily and leaned on my walking stick. I would likely have to leave it behind for this one. No matter. None at all. What must be done will be done.

I have not told any of the others of my plans - there is no need, no reason to do so. It does not matter. Once they leave I will be alone in any case. It doesn't matter how large of a crowd that I am in, I will always be alone.

That is also an odd way of putting it. Alone in a crowd. I believe that it has been used before.

The flames slowly started to spread to the wood piling below their bodies. The flames climbed higher, burned brighter, hotter. I began to feel the heat on my face.

I pictured my sons as I always do, as my innocent children. My babies. They hardly ever heard me talk of that. I called them sons many many times, but children? Babies? I had figured that they wouldn't like it -they are stubborn teenagers, after all.

Were.

Suddenly a thought stabbed at my mind like a stake in the heart. When was the last time that I had told them? When did I last tell them that I loved them? Frantically I searched my thoughts.

It wasn't before I left. The previous night they chose to stay up watching a movie and I was so exhausted I simply fell into my bed asleep. Was it that morning? Perhaps the previous one? I don't believe so, they are usually grouchy in the morning. Not too much closeness at that time. I pull and search at my thoughts like a thing possessed. When was the last time? The further and further I had to reach back into time the heavier and heavier that my heart had gotten. Do I really tell them so little? Share those words only for specific times?

What is wrong with me? What kind of father was I, that I did not tell them of my love for them more often?

Finally I found it. Three days ago, after giving them a stern lecture followed by something a bit more uplifting. I remember it clearly,  
praising each of them in turn and telling them "I love you all, my sons." I whispered the words over and over through my dried lips, staring  
mesmerized into the flames that were now burning their corpses. "I love you all, my sons."

A chink formed in my protective wall and the first tear appeared. It welled on my lower lid, blurring my vision of the flames. Angrily I  
blinked it away but it wouldn't go. Another one accompanied it immediately afterwards. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, welcoming the pain, tasting the blood upon my tongue hoping that these tears, these last vestiges of my armor would go away but they didn't. Instead they welled and finally spilled down my cheeks.

I am dishonored. To lose my children, my sons, my students in such a way that I was not there to defend them. I was not there to die  
righteously by their side, I was not there... Instead I had been off reveling in my 'alone time', never realizing that some evil force was fighting with my sons to the death while I frolicked in the sewers.

What kind of father am I, that I would not tell them that I love them each and every day? What is so wrong with me that I actually have to sit down and think of the last time that I had told them?

The last thing that I had told them, I remember, was to behave. They had been rambunctious that morning. That was the last word they heard. Behave.

Blinking, I realized that more time had passed than I had originally thought. I could no longer see the bodies of my sons, wrapped in their  
burial shrouds. The fire was more than half gone and was now a giant bonfire, lighting the sky and showing their souls the way to the stars. That is what I had always told them, that the stars are the fires of all the honorable samurai and ninja that have ever served and that one day they would join their ranks. Of course I had thought that I would be up there before them.

Before them.

No father should outlive his sons.

I would look for their stars in the midnight sky every chance that I got, until my deed was done. Yet I planned to do it soon, so it was likely that I would not have time to look. No matter. I will find them and tell them I love  
them when I join them within the next few days.

At home I thought of the things that I had prepared. The spare kimono that I had, one not as worn which had been made by my own sons for a Christmas present. It was patchy but the scraps of material had been scrounged for years before they were sewn together. It was a fine kimono, one to commemorate their memory in. Their weapons were lying in my room, just as they had left them; bloodstained and worn. I wouldn't have it any other way. I left some incense burning as I left, to spice the air.

And finally the tanto, the one that had once belonged to my Master Yoshi. It was with this tanto that I would commit the act of seppuku if time allowed. If the task that I had ahead did not interfere too much with it. I did not suspect it would.

Naturally I knew how it was done, cut yourself from left to right across the abdomen, then drag the blade upwards to allow the disembowelment to be complete. There was no one to cut off my head for me but I expected that I must make do with what I have.

No matter what happened from here on, I was determined to join my sons on the other side.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A/N: Ooooh. What will happen next do you ask? You will simply have to tune into chapter 3 to find out! Tell me what you guys think of this installment. I also have it posted on SS so if you're there feel free to tune in as well. Let me know any predictions, thoughts, or wishes. I have no problem with long reviews, in fact I love them so don't be afraid to ramble!

Toodles!


	3. I Promise

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: I am so glad that y'all are liking this story so far. I was so nervous about negative reactions when I first started but I'm definetly not getting them! Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Chapter 3

I Promise

We watched the fire until it was nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes. My sons were gone.

Turning my muzzle upwards I looked towards the stars, wondering if I would find four new ones burning brightly in the cool night's sky. I inhaled the night air. I could still smell them. I remembered what I had said before and knew that it would be fullfilled.

I thought of the instruments for the ritual seppuku suicide lying in my chambers and smiled slightly to myself. What would they think of me now? I already had formulated my plans, they would go to fruition easily. All that it would take would be my own courage and two paws to work at them.

I glanced sideways at Ms. O'Neil and Mr. Jones., slightly irritated at them whispering. Sometimes I wonder what exactly they think these ears are for. Even in my mutated form I have always had a more refined sense of smell, hearing and touch than humans. I could hear every word of their conversation. They were talking of moving me out of the Lair to live with one of them, for comfort and care.

Inwardly I scoffed at their ludicrous thoughts. What did they think of me, a pile of fragile china? No. I do now need extra care. If I was a human it would be different. They could get others involved, the governemnt and social services and the like. In that case I would likely be placed in a nursing home. For once my species intervened for the better for I had to worry about none of that. I would not be living much longer anyway. It did not matter. Nothing mattered except my upcoming plans.

Slowly I bent down and fingered the warm ashes. I rubbed my fingertips together, getting the feel of them absorbed in my skin. I wanted to scoop them up, to take them with me, but I knew that it would be no use. I could not do anything with them anyway. Then again, my human friends might come to use to me at this time. I did not want my sons ashes left on the trash barge. I had not the time to do it myself, time was so short and if I waited too much longer than my prime opportunity would be gone. My enemies were on the move. I must myself move as quickly.

"Ms. O'Neil." I only said her name and she started at the sound of it. It was the first thing that she heard me say in quite some time. She rushed over and knelt at my side, her face anxious with worry. I ignored it and continued on without looking at her. "If I could ask a favor of you."

"Yes, anything. Please." she looked worried. Why would she be worried? I am a ninja master.

"I wish for you and Mr. Jones to gather the ashes of my sons. You can scatter them in the Lair or in another place that brought them great joy. If you don't wish to do this, then you may keep them for yourselves. This would bring me happiness in the end and I am sure that they would enjoy it if their remains were with you, as you were thier friends. This is my task of you." My words sounded hollow, I know. But at the moment I simply did not care.

She looked troubled. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her lip trembled slightly with yet unshed tears as she spoke. "What do you mean, 'in the end' Master Splinter? And why don't you want to help? Surely you would-"

"That is enough!" I snapped. My tail slapped the floor as I ground my walking stick impatiently.

I sighed. I did not mean to snap at her. It was unintentional. Ah, well, I need to hurry. My time here is running short. "I said that it is the end because it is and cannot help you for precisely that same reason. I trust that you will heed my last wishes, Ms. O'Neil."

Her mouth opened in a wide O as what I said began to sink in. "What! W-with all due respect, Master Splinter, you don't plan on killing yourself or anything, do you? Please, let me help!" Mr. Jones, hearing the conversation, sat beside her, nodding in agreement to everything she said. His face was equally as worried, equally as clueless.

"Yeah." He piped in. "Besides, don't you wanna get the guys who did this? Don't you care?"

That was too much. Did he think that I did not care! I swung my walking stick before realizing it, slamming the end of it straight into his chest. The blow knocked him down from his sitting position. He scrunched up his face, rubbing his sternum. I repressed the urge to sniff. He was fortunate that I realized what I was doing in time to lighten the blow. A few inches lower with more pressure would have been a killing blow. Right now all he would sustain is a colorful bruise. Ms. O'Neil looked at me with shock as she aided the man.

I took the opportunity to turn and leave the area. They knew my wishes, that is all that I had wanted to convey to them. None of this banter was necessary.

Ever since the flames died down the other humans have been getting transportation ready and I intended to be on the first one back.

Mr. Jones managed to gain a breath. "Hey, wait Masta Splinter! What about what I said?"

"What I do is my own business." I replied as I hopped on the water transport. I knew that he would want to help but the clumsy oaf would just get in the way. Ms. O'Neil would be better but the answer would still be no. I needed to do this alone, for my failure to my sons. For my failure as a father.

These thoughts were still in my head when I reached the lair. I had to resist gagging. The smell of raw blood and flesh was still pungent in the air. The blood of my sons. It was coupled with the horrid stench of loosened bowels, something that hapens in death but is no less humiliating. Quickly I crossed the main room to begin my preparations.

I picked up the newer kimono that my sons had made for me and slipped it over the one that I already wore. Grabbing Michelangelo's nunchucku I slipped these in the inner belt. Raphael's sai were the next to go. Snatching a sling of leather I quickly slipped on the crude sword holster that I had made for my self and put Leonardo's katana along my back. It was too large for me to carry comfortably on my hip. Then I picked up Donatello's bostaff and hefted its weight. I would carry this one in place of my walking stick. Finally I picked up the tanto and tucked it in a pocket behind my back, between my shoulder blades. It seemed to sizzle through my skin, reminding me of the task I had to do should I fail.

Meticulously I made my way around the Lair, seeing the evidence once more to be sure that I was correct in their identities. The scrap of black cloth. The blood of the enemies that my sons had spilled, their acrid stench beating at my nose even through everything else. I even used the outlines of the fallen bodies, the outlines made by both dust and blood.

Turning swiftly I made my way out of the Lair, my back turned to our once peaceful home, never to be seen again. Before I crossed the threshold for the last time I stopped to inhale the scent. I do not mean the smell of blood and death, battle and enemies. I reached passed that to what it was before. Warm, amusing, the air chocked with the essence of discipline and love, youthfullness and energy. For a moment, a brief, yet overwhelming moment, the air itself cackled with it like electricity moving through the air. It is this that I inhaled deeply, reaching every cell in my body from the wiskers on my noes to the tip of my tail. It would be this that I carried with me on this journey, this mission. This promise.

I made my way to the upper levels and finally to the city streets. I wasted no time in leaping on top of a semi truck going the direction that I wished to go. My enemies were this way. They always were my enemies but now they are seen to me as much much more. They invaded my home, murdered my sons, and therefore signed their own death certificate. They were nothing more than the sentenced awaiting death by my hands.

Something landed on my cheek and I fingered it, looking at it curiously. It was a single droplet of water. Salt water. For some reason it took some time for me to realize that I was looking at my own tears. I faced the wind, faced the upcoming battle. I knew that there was going to be pain and that it was going to be difficult but it was something that must be done. These tears demanded it. Without warning my shoulders trembled and shook as the long awaited sobs finally wracked my body. My vision became blurry with tears as the liquid poured from my eyes. I hugged the weapons to me tighter, their cold presence somehow managing to warm me.

I love you, my sons. I promise, on my honor, that you will be avenged.

* * *

A/N: I know, kinda short. Ya gotta forgive me on that one. The next one will be more action packed, I promise! Throw in any ideas or thoughts that you might have for me.

Toodles!


	4. On the Hunt

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, peoples! I'm both happy and surprised that this story is doing so well, I honestly thought that it would kind of flop. I have some free time at work because everyone's leaving to get ready for the military ball except for me! My date's in the field plus I'm seven months pregnant so it's only me and a few others watching the clinic. Luckily it's Friday, no one want's to be sick on Friday. Here goes the next chapter. Thanks to Reijiro and SS for giving me an idea to start this chapter. Hope that you enjoy it!

Chapter 4

On the Hunt

Their vehicle had it's own odor to it. Had the distinct smell of diesel yet another, more organic one. Smelled similar to the french fries that my sons were so fond of digesting.

Of course this thought brought a fresh rush of heat to my face and a familiar straining to my eyes. I blinked back hard, and somehow managed to keep the tears at bay and the lump from my throat. There was no time for this. This was a time of action. Briefly I wondered if I could ever think about them again without having this sort of reaction. Well, hopefully I wouldn't have to 'live' with it for too much longer.

I hunkered down in the shadows behind the garbage can, waited for the street to clear completely, then flitted across the dim pavement with all the noise of a falling feather. Reaching the other side I immediately darted behind the nearest form of cover, making myself as small as possible. A car passed by, it's headlights bright. I was as immobile as a stone.

I waited for several moments of complete silence before I even flickered an eyelash. Unwinding my tail from around my feet I slowly crept down the alley along the wall. I saw thier vehicle. It was a large diesel truck. Two of them, plainly marked and dingy. Fit right into the night. I sniffed them lightly. French fries. No, cooking grease. For a moment I was puzzled until I remembered the latest project Donatello had planned, something he saw on a television show about trucks. Converting cooking grease into something that could work in a diesel engine. He had planned on using it to cheaply power his machines. Now, becuase of these people he would never get a chance to. My poor Donatello...

For a moment I saw him as I had found him in the Lair, flopped in the lab with his brain matter splattered on the walls...

Furiously I shook my head hard enough to see stars. I could not be doing this! I could not afford to! I was on a mission! I had made a promise! My sons would be avenged!

With cautious determination I continued forward, thanking the unique form of diesel fuel that helped me find them. They weren't my main adversary, but they were there. I could smell them in the Lair along with the others who had attacked my family. They would get thier just dues along with them as well.

Creeping past the truck I continued forward to the dingy door. No one was in the vehicles. I paused to feel the engine of the truck. The engine ticked tiredly and a faint heat had emanated from it. They could not have just come from the Lair, perhaps they had had other business in the meantime? My jaw clenched. Were they hired henchmen? Did they kill others in similar fashions? I could not stand for this, and I knew if my sons were here they would not either. These people must be stopped.

The one thing that puzzled me is why my main adversaries would need to use these people anyway. Perhaps I would find out upon entering.

Reaching the door I cautiously tested the doorknob with soft fingers so that not the slightest noise could be heard. It was locked. No matter. Pulling out one of Raphael's sai I inserted the sharpened tip into the keyhole. Slowly and patiently I tested the mechanisms, feeling for that pin. There, I found it. Gently I pushed it with the tip and let loose the spring. The lock clicked open. I paused for a moment, listening for any movement inside the door. There was none, no one heard it. Slowly I removed the weapon and returned it to it's place. With equally soft fingers I turned the knob and pushed the door open, waiting for a creak or whistle to come out of the hinges. There was none. I let out the breath that I did not know I was holding. Fortune seemed to be on my side at this time.

The moment I stuck my nose in the door I froze. They had dogs, more than one. Many. Now that the door was open I could hear the taps of their nails and the shufflings of thier snouts. This brought a new light on things.

Sniffing carefully to make sure that no one was around and that the dogs weren't in this room I slowly stepped inside. Immediately I could tell by the inner surroundings that despite the dingyness of the exterior these men were professionals. The interior was clean, well organized, and had the distinct odor of money. A good amount of money. Devices of various sorts were lining the walls. It all appeared to be very expensive and complicated. For a moment I pondered why such technology had been kept with such a simple locking mechanism, until I saw the flashing red light on the door to my side. I whipped around and saw a small box with a matching red light on the door I had just entered.

I was across the room in a flash of movement even as footsteps hurriedly approached the doorway. I had been standing in the room for less than a second. Hopefully I wasn't noticed.

Just as I dove under a nearby desk a series of red lights danced across the floor. I did not know the purpose of these, but they had an acrid, burning smell to them and even sent a faint whistle in my ears that no human could hear. Thely made me uneasy.

The lights came dangerously close to me but luckily my small flexible frame kept me close enough to the wall and under the heavy metal desk that I was not touched. With deft, silent fingers I loosened my robe. The footsteps had by now stopped and were now waiting patiently outside the door.

"I don't hear any screaming. Think it's a false alarm?"

I cocked my head at the voice coming from the door. My fur bristled. Perhaps one of my sons heard a similar voice before being brutally put to death. Sternly I struggled to calm my emotions as I continued to listen.

"Well, if it isn't then their chopped up like yesterday's leftovers. If it is then we just reset the system."

My muscles tensed as the lights waned and then finally went out with a subsonic 'blip.' There was very little chance that they would see me, the desk was very low to the ground and quite thick on three sides. I would catch them by surprise.

Two people walked in. All that I could see was their feet below their knees but I was certain that they were carrying some sort of weapon. I must be prepared for anything, as I had taught my sons to be. I watched the polished shoes go over to the door and puzzle over it.

"Now what do you suppose opened this up?"

The other man was silent for a moment. "Not sure. Might've been scared off by the lasers before coming in, lucky turd. Not here, that's for sure. But Jackson's sure going to get his ass chewed for not setting all the proper locks. This one was the only one that was picked. You see the marks? Yeah, he's going to get beat."

"It's not like we expected anyone to come here..."

"That's not the point."

There was silence as a series of beeps rang out and the door was closed. I heard more than one lock click into place. It took them several moments to set all these devices. Silently I slipped out one of Raphael's sai and a knife. There must be no noise. I cannot spoil this for my sons.

The two pairs of feet were no more than three steps back across the room before I sprang. I did not have the space or time to jump due to my hiding place, so I went for the nearest set of feet and, whipping the knife in my hand, slashed both of the tendons on his heel. He crumpled immedieately, only emanating a slight "ack!" I did not wait an instant. Immediately I sprang off my coiled feet in the same movement towards the other man and plunged the knife deep into his throat, slashing it from ear to ear. Blood spurted on my fur as I yanked the blade out and gravity pulled me downward. I landed directly beside the fallen man with the slashed heels and buried the knife up to the hilt directly between the eyes. Then the other man fell beside me, crimson blood spurting a sticky pool on the floor. I did the whole deed in one calculated movement.

Neither of them were dead instantly but they were also incapable of doing anything. I saw surprise flash in their eyes and a mouth gape open before the light left thier pupils and I knew that they were gone.

I felt nothing.

These men had somehow participated in the slaughtering of my sons. They recieved a kinder punishment than that was granted upon my family and I.

I was correct about their weaponry. Both carried assault rifles along with smaller firearms and blades. Propping my foot against his head for stability, I yanked the knife out of the man's head. His body moved limply with the movement but did nothing else.

Immediately I left the room, carefully sidestepping the large pool of blood under the slashed man's body. Other than his heels, the other man had had no time to bleed before he was gone. Less mess I suppose.

The hallway was deserted. I could smell the dogs at one end of the hallway, but no people. Voices emanated from the other end, however. So, moving with the shadows, I crept down the hall, hugging the near wall as I went.

"What the Hell's taking them so long? We gotta leave soon and meet the lady again."

"Her name isn't 'lady,' Jackson. You'd do well to learn some respect for our employers. Stop acting like such a newbie, newbie."

"Well, I just don't like this whole business. Did you see those green freaks? I mean, c'mon!"

"That's what we do. We dispatch people. That spray worked pretty well, though. Didn't leave any residue either. Besides, it was a realatively easy job. All we had to do was operate the guns, disengage an alarm system and the spray."

"Yeah. They sure fought like hellcats, though. But if we did such a great job, then why does she want us back?"

"Because we were hired to help her kill five targets. Not four. We still have one to go."

I admit I paused at the end of the hallway to listen to their conversation. Once again my fur bristled. I already knew that these infidels were involved in killing my family but hearing them vocally confirm it only enraged me more. I had to struggle to keep from snarling as I shook with rage. Listening to them talk, I hated them. To think that they thought that they could get away with this, and then hunt me down as well was infuriating. But I must find out what sort of spray they referred to. I shall make them tell me before I kill them.

Slowly I tuned my senses to the situation. There were more than two, despite me only hearing two voices in the conversation. But I had no way of finding out a precise number without inadvertently revealing myself at the same time so it could not be helped. This would be close range fighting. I tightened my grip on the bloodstained knife and the sai and tensed as a chair slid across the floor and a figure got up.

"I'll go see what the hell's taking them so long." He groaned as humans often dow when they stretch.

Perfect.

I was a blur of fur as I darted out from the corner. The man standing was stretching towards the ceiling, his coat bunching up around his throat too much to allow a throat attack. Without conscious thought I went for the exposed belly that the movement provided. The knife plunged fast and deep at his side. I continued to run and whip it across the rest of his belly. I didn't even pause to look as blood and thicker things spilled onto the floor from the slash. Another man was lounging in a chair. He startled at the sight of me but didn't have a chance to get up. I buried the sai in his chest, right through the sternum where the beating heart should be. I yanked it out and continued without looking at the results. I already knew them.

The movement brought me within easy reach of the table. I slid across it, scattering everything on it's surface. Three more. By now one of them was halfway out of his chair. My feet hit his chest, knocking him down as the middle prong of the sai fit neatly into his left ear.

I was off of him in an instant, instinctively rolling as the first shot rang out. It hit just behind my tail. Gripping the sai in my hand I flicked my wrist and let it fly. It buried itself in his throat. His eyes blinked in surprise as he dropped his firearm and touched it, pain not even getting a chance to register yet. I flung the knife, which finished the job.

One more gun cocked in my direction but the distance was too great for me to reach instantly. Immediatly my fingers closed around the hilt of Leonardo's sword. Still making myself a moving target, the first bullet missed. With a graceful arc I swung the steel at the frightened man. He yelped in surprise as the pistol hit the ground with his hand still around the butt of it. It took him a moment to register just what had happened and actually had to look at the stump on his arm to fully realize it. When he did he screamed.

But I had no time for screaming.

Kicking him in the chest, I knocked him to the ground. Ignoring the blood spurting from the wound, I took a hold of his hair and yanked at it. "What is this spray that you speak of?" I demanded into his face.

The man was weeping like a child, fat tears spilling from his eyes. For a moment something in me suggested that I pity this man. Then another image, of a small, orange masked turtle crying because he scraped his knee, floated into my mind. Of another one wearing blue tearing up because he didn't get his first kata right. A red one yelping when he had inadvertently punched a wall and a purple wearing turtle bursting into tears when his latest project fell apart. They were all so young...

I tightened my hold on his hair and jerked it hard enough for his head to thump on the floor and repeated the question harshly. Screaming in both fear and pain he blubbered. "It-it's kinda like p-p-pepper spray, only odorless. We u-u-used it t-to distract th-them. It b-burns r-r-real bad."

By now he was pasty white and close to passing out. Michelangelo's face drifted into my vision again.

Grabbing the side of his head I twisted harshly. His neck crackled and his eyes lost their spark. Slowly I got up. Somehow, I seemed tired. Yet I had so much more to do.

There was a man, the one I disembowled, still alive on the floor, weeping dazedly. He clutched his intestines to his stomach, his face pale and his eyes listless. I put him out of his misery. I could not allow this to stand. These men were professionals in what they do, but were nothing when compared with someone trained in ninjitsu. If I dared to leave someone alive in my next battle like that, it could easily be my last. I had so much more to do...

Slowly I assessed my surroundings one last time as I retrieved the sai and the knife. I cleaned off all the weapons on the clothing of the fallen people. With equal slowness I left the room.

Somehow as I left the building and headed towards the familiar skyscraper it seemed more depressing. I had killed some of the men responsible for killing me sons. They killed others as a means to their living, so in a way I had saved many that night. But I was not used to fighting in this style. It dated back to the time before ninjas regained thier honor, the time where they were thieving assassins.

What would my sons think of me now?

My eyes welled up with tears at the thought. My sons. My poor sons.

I pictured them young again, running around the Lair and tugging at my robe for this and that. Those were hectic times. But I loved them, as I loved living with them until yesterday when they were brutally taken from me. My thoughts were hardened at that thought. I had made a promise, I would avenge my sons, no matter what it took. Then I would join them in the next world.

I only hoped they would find a way to forgive me for the sins I would be committing this day.

* * *

A/N: Not as much 'inner thoughts of Splinter' as I pictured when I started writing it, but it is kinda hard to put that in as he's slashing throats and taking names. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. There will be one or two chapters after this. I already have the ending planned out. I just need to figure out a way for him to get into the _next_ place he will post his attack. Any ideas feel free to shoot them at me. 

Toodles!


	5. Infiltration

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get back! We've been bustling to and fro at work. On top of that a dress uniform inspection is coming up and my orders are now, ah, open for negotiation so to speak. Let's all pray that my promotion goes through so I can go to Japan. Also, please ignore any discrepencies about the following chapter. I have not seen a single episode of season four. The last I saw is Hun on the Run. So I don't know how the foot is operating right now under new management! Many of the details will appear to be vague, muddled, and somewhat confused. This is intentional, I'm trying to help grasp Splinter's current mental state. I'm trying to point more to that than the sheer carnage in this chapter, so action will tend to be short. Hope it's still up to parr for you guys. On to the story!

Chapter 5

Infiltration

So here I am, standing in the main formal room, blood dripping from my paws, staring down the witch who is responsible. She has her ninja, her elite guard, and her advanced weaponry. I have nothing but my will and the precious weapons of my fallen sons. It was a long and hard battle to get this far. I would do it again ten times over just to be as I am right now. It hurts. I do not care. Surely the fates would not have allowed me to get this far only to stumble now.

I discovered that it was somewhat easier to infiltrate the foot building than I originally expected. Perhaps it was simply because I had only myself to worry about. This option puts a damper on my heart when I think of why. Or it could be that the new Shredder is simply running things differently now.

Of course the assistance of Ms. O'Neil could have something to do with it as well.

I had not expected to run into her or Mr. Jones after leaving them on the barge. I'll admit that I may have treated them a bit coldly, but I did not care at the moment. The one who perpetrated the murder of my sons was in that skyscraper.

They both had immediate worry over the blood splattering my fur. I told them rather shortly that the blood was not mine. They looked at each other in an odd way at my response. It is a look that I do not care to describe or have them repeat. No, I do not care if they repeat it. Why should I care? All that matters now is avenging my sons.

They must think that I've gone mad. I know that's what they think. She tried to take my hand, supporting my shoulder as though I were an invalid. I jerked her away. One glare had her looking at me nervously. Even Mr. Jones failed to speak, which is rather unusual for him. They were both silent for a moment before Ms. O'Neil spoke.

She had asked me my plans, what it was that I wanted to do. I could not answer. Instead I simply looked the other direction, looked towards my next goal. I could feel thier eyes on me. She spoke quietly when she offered help. She knew what I was doing, I could tell by the tone of her voice. So she should know what she was getting into.

I knew that I should just leave them where they stand. The humans. They have nothing to do with the battle to come, it is my vendetta. My quest. My right.

Yet I found that I could not do this. Despite the way that I felt right now, the pure turmoil boiling and churning inside of me, I could not turn them away again. They were my friends, in a way. But more than that, they were family to my sons. They assisted them before, perhaps...perhaps it would not be so profane to let them offer assistance now. I did not care if I died, but it would be no use to my family if I died before achieving my goal, would it? Perhaps they could be of some positive assistance. They were so when I rescued my sons from Bishop, were they not? Perhaps. Perhaps...

Softly she asked who it was. Just as softly I told her. They both nodded. She suggested that we use some of the technology in the Lair. At that I refused without hesitation. That was Donatello's equipment. Not mine. His hands were the last to touch it, to caress the metal and care for the parts. I could not use anything of his in such a violent manner. Not now, not ever.

Besides that, I wanted to do this my way. The way that the ancient warriors in Japan would have centuries ago. The cleanliness of my skill. The strength of my steel. The sharpness of my mind.

I'm not sure if she understood completely, but she understood enough to know not to push the issue. I had agreed to enough. I had agreed to thier help.

It was then that Mr. Jones spoke up. With an idea. It was difficult to conceal my shock, yet still I looked at him warily. I was becoming increasingly nervous around him. He reminded me too much of my son Raphael. They were such close comrades, their personalities meshed so evenly without them even knowing it. They used to love going topside, to vent their anger and frustration on the criminal element of the city. They did this so often, I think it might have even been an excercise for them. Tinkering with their motorcycles, riding through the city...

Ms. O'Neil had to get my attention at that point. I was startled. Had I drifted off? I refrained from shaking my head to clear it. She was asking me what I thought of the plan. I nodded quickly, too ashamed to admit that I did not know the schematics of it. I had allowed my mind to cloud, to drift. I never do that. Or I never did do that. My shame drenched deeper. How could I be so cloudy now, at such a vital moment! No! Things like that cause mistakes to be made. I must make no mistakes. None whatsoever. They would be detrimental to the mission. I have shamed my sons.

I was surprised to feel tears welling up from inside of me. Furiously I shut my eyes, as though in doing so I could shut out the feelings inside. It did not work completely but was adequate enough to keep them from spilling down my cheeks. My hands trembled slightly as I smoothed the fur on my cheek. That particular bead of moisture surely must be from the night.

Hurriedly I followed the two humans. Along the way I learned the details of the plan. I was still surprised that such a thing could come from a mind like that of Mr. Jones.

Luckily teamwork was not relied upon. I could not do that at this time. I know it. My thoughts would be soley on the mission at hand, not on helping or protecting anyone fighting around me. Besides that, this is a task which must be accomplished alone. Perhaps Mr. Jones knew this or simply couldn't think of something with more teamwork, either way I am grateful. This way they are responsible for their own fates, and they do not rely on me for any such thing.

It was a relatively simple plan involving distraction. They would be the distraction while I got in from behind, so to speak. It was actually a compartment, left over from the building plans before everything was revamped at her coming. I would in fact be in a different are entirely as the attack took place. This was good. As dangerous as I might have felt, I knew better than try to plow through a mass of ninjas on my own. After all, I needed to be alive to greet the witch. Ms. O'Neil would use her own electrical devices in the attack. I did not care. As long as they were not Donatello's.

My thoughts had almost become muddled once more at the thought of my brainy son, but luckily the first explosion jarred me out of it. Swiftly I ran to the garage door and slipped my tiny frame through the slight gap on the floor just as a second explosion rocketed into the air. Alarms were going off everywhere. My two assistants were at the opposite end of the building and everyone was heading in that direction, save the skeleton crew left to man the posts.

This was a garage similar to the one my sons and I used on our first attack on the Shredder, only then it was the battle shell being driven in. Not one small rat.

There was only three ninjas in the large space. My biggest risk would be the sprint across the open expanse of floor to reach my quarry. Luckily the foolish humans were still distracted by what was going on in the other end of the building. They were talking excitedly amongst themselves. Their first mistake was their last mistake.

Weilding a sai and a nunchucku, I flew across the floor. Spinning the wood I struck their heads from the back, hard enough to make their skulls crackle like tin foil. I managed to dispatch all of them in one clean motion, getting the first two on the first swing and striking the third in an upward draft, smashing between the temples. They slumped in their seats as though sleeping. I looked at them a moment, wondering, before dashing forward, heading for the nearest ventilation duct. I knew from our last attack the quickest way to the top, and I was going to utilize all of them.

After a mere fifteen minutes of climbing and crawling I realized that this must be a side ventilation shaft and not connected to the main one. It ended too soon, forcing me to find another way. I knew where the elevator was, I could use that to reach the top.

Quickly I scanned the nearest opening. It looked like an armory of some sort. I could see many of the spaces for weapons empty. Apparently Mr. Jones and Ms. O'Neil were putting up a very good fight down there. Slowly I determined that I must thank them for that crucial distraction if I was to make it out of here alive or in working order. There was a rather small batch of ninjas milling around that I must contend with before I reached the other room where I knew the elevator was located.

Although it had been rather unweildy before in the infiltration, I felt that Donatello's bostaff would be best for the long range combat.

I tried to unlatch the vent quietly but the object was not in good order and was rusted in a few places. It fell away before I was finished and clattered loudly to the floor before I could manage to catch it. Naturally it immediately attracted the attention of the ninjas. No sooner had the metal touched the floor than I leapt out of the enclosed area and attacked them.

Luckily the first two ninjas were rather close by. I struck the first one on the side of the head, below the temple. Keeping the momentum in the bo I jabbed the end into the other's throat, crushing the windpipe. Still keeping it in motion I charged the other group. One came at me with a katana. I have a longer reach. I struck his hands hard enough to make him drop the weapon. Swinging the staff, I hit him on the back of the knees and brought the bo into an arc only to have it come crashing down on his nose as he fell.

The others came at me and I'll admit that for a moment I simply lost it. With a gutteral sound of pain and rage I ravaged through the pack, striking this way and that. I felt several things brush my body, but I ignored them. These were enemies of the sort which my sons had been battling for years. The ones who caused so much pain and frustration in their lives... I could see their faces as I struck them down in my blood rage.

Of course, as I have instructed before, you cannot lose focus in an attack and hope to escape unscathed. As it was for me. All my warning was the whistling of the warm up before the weapon struck me solidly on the back. With a small grunt I stumbled forward and fell to the floor. Stars danced and hazed my vision. I had to blink several times to clear it. I could smell my fur burning. I could tell right away that the damage was slight. The curses and smacking behind me attributed to it. The machine must have malfunctioned. I only had a burn to the skin.

Not moving I groped to my nearest fallen enemy where I had seen them pull ninja stars from countless times. My fingers closed around the cold metal. Listening to the voices behind me I whirled on my elbow, flinging out the projectiles with my free arm. My ears were correct in their positions. Each one struck true.

Staggering slightly as I got to my feet, I headed to the other room. Groping with one hand I felt my back. Whatever it was burned through my kimono and a large patch of fur on my back, but no further damage. It was also then that I noticed that the things 'brushing' against me earlier weren't so innocent either. My body was littered with minor cuts, stabs and bruises.

I would live.

I will not at this time go into detail with all of my battles to the top, but after those initial two there weren't many and the opposition was slight. Or at least in my eyes. I'll admit that part of it was seen through a haze on my part. I felt numb and cold inside. I knew that this was not the way that I would have felt before all this occured, but heaven help me it was how I felt now. I did not know what could be done other than to beg forgiveness of my sons for the atrocities that I am committing this day. My fur is speckled with blood that is not only not my own, but belonging to many others. Too many others. Between battles I had time to wonder what kind of creature they were turning me into and if my sons would even recognize me on the other side. Oh, I hope they would. I hoped and I prayed that I was not too far gone...

As you might have guessed from this description, reaching that last elevator was not as cut and dry as I would have hoped. I had misjudged the layout and had to travel several floors to reach the one that I knew was the one. I'll admit that I was beginning to tire. Thinking back now, I cannot remember the last time that I had eaten. I believe it was some time before all this had happened. On top of that, my body was being put through non stop action, something it was not used to. My bones were reminding me of my age as well. All of this worried me greatly. What if I was not able to complete my task? My revenge?

I tried no to think about that.

But I could not help but think it as I entered the room and saw the elite guard standing there, waiting for me.

* * *

A/N: I had originally intended for the fight with the elite guard to be in this chapter, but it was going on just a tad bit too long for my tastes so I ended it here. Ther SHOULD only be one more chapter after this. I'm actually going to try for tears from you guys, something I hadn't actually sought before, so it should be interesting! Don't forget

Toodles!


	6. Stars

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT

A/N: Alright. I'll admit a little guilt here. Now that I got some of the stuff going on out of the way and the command inspection is over with I was planning on putting the next chapter of Hello Cruel World on before this one...but I couldn't help it! I'm excited about the ending, which I had envisioned almost before even conceiving of the story! For all of those reading on my other story as well, I promise that I'll get the chapter going after finishing this one off! I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 6

Stars

I stood there for a moment, nothing moving except for the rustling of my fur. The four elite guard stood just as still, staring at me like statues through their hooded gazes. Slowly, with infinite care, I flexed my shoulders. The muscles on my back relaxed ever so slightly and my spine crackled. The tip of my tail twitched in anticipation. Still the guard didn't move.

I moved first, buckling my left leg to propell my body into a sharp feint. The guard moved without so much as a whisper of sound, all four of them simoutaneously speeding to different areas of the room, all of them towards me. My eyes narrowed as they rushed at me and I pulled out Leonardo's katana, gripping the hilt firmly in my grasp as I propelled myself forward at the end of my feint...right into them.

The blade moved silently through the air as I aimed for the knees of the nearest two. The first managed to stagger back, only getting a gash above both knees and the second sprang out of the way like a cat. The other two came at me from the side and behind as I tried to strike. I deliberately buckled my legs to dodge both of their wickedly curved blades. One strike like that and it would all be over. The first blade whispered over my head as I fell. The other stopped me in my tracks as it sank into the flesh and bones of my tail. For a brief moment it stopped me completely, as though instead of chopping it he pegged it to the ground. Then the bone gave way with a sickening slip and I was able to dart out of the way just as the other three came in for another volley of attack.

Blood spurted from the wound. I could tell without looking that I had lost a good half foot of my tail.

I felt nothing.

Another charged, thinking me off balance. I used my momentum to go into a roll. Swiping with the sword I cut the blade into both of his heels, right through his achilles tendon. He didn't make a sound. Limping heavily he tried to attack while balancing on one foot. I tried to take advantage of his precarious position but another swiftly came at me from the head and I had to continue the roll out of harms way. Even still, I felt a cold steel blade sink into my right shoulder, just under the shoulder blade. Automatically I arched my back with a grunt of pain. Flipping the katana in my grasp I jabbed it under my armpit, seeking to stab the attacker from behind. I only managed to catch his wrist as he leapt away. Not losing any movement I swept the weapon to my left, warding off the fourth attacking me. For a brief second I had some space.

They came at me again, slowly separating during their charge like a pack of wolves charging a wounded bull. They were coming at me from all sides, coordinated in their movements, each attack complementing the other. They would not allow me to back up and get away from the attacks and recoup, instead they surrounded me from all sides. I was forced to drop Leonardo's sword momentarily and weild both sai instead, a weapon made more for short range than a katana was. Both of my hands were blazing with weapons. Unfortunately the same was true for the elite as well.

They were constantly leaping, dodging and attacking like a mongoose against a cobra. I struck swiftly, with coordination and speed. My steel struck their flesh more times than I could count. But despite my having handicapped one of them, they were making their marks on me as well. I cannot say for sure exactly where they struck me, I was in such a haze. All that I became aware of soon was my own heartbeat. It was still there. Even as I struck, defended myself, and was attacked, all I could hear was that solid heartbeat. It remained slow and steady despite the fast pace at which I was moving, such was my calm. It has to be one of the most silent battles that I have ever been in.

That heartbeat was important. Vitally important. I had to stay alive, to finish my mission, to avenge my sons. The dishonor, the humiliation would be too great if I was struck down before it was complete. That was my sole purpose. I could clearly see them in my mind and smiled to myself despite the battle that I was in. Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, Raphael. My sons, my children. I am sorry that I have failed you once, but I swear unto you that I will use every breath in my body, every beat in my heart, to ensure that I do not fail you a second time. I cannot bring you back, but perhaps I can avenge your death.

These were my sole thoughts during the battle. Of my family. Of my dearly beloved sons. Whom that witch has taken from me. I must live to see her. To kill her. Yes.

My pace was weakening. My right arm, my most dominant as well, was very much weaker because of the blow dealt in the beginning of the battle. Perhaps it sliced through some of my muscles. It did not matter. As long as I got through this battle. As long as I lived to see one more, just one more...

Still they danced around me. Finally, an opportunity presented itself. One of the ninja leapt in front of me, raising his arms too high for what could be a mortal blow. I used the opening and thrust the sai straight into his abdomen. Viciously I twisted and wrenched the weapon, causing havoc to the organs encased within. The ninja faltered and dropped his weapon as he struggled to get a hold of the organs slipping to the floor. He staggered back, out of the battle.

The movement cost me as well, however. The other two used the opportunity to attack me from both sides. Among my many other wounds, my sides were bleeding. I had managed to dip down immediately after the attack to avoid major damage, but I could tell from my breathing that at least one of my lungs had been punctured. I set my jaw. I could not die, not now.

I inhaled slightly and winced at my first true feelings of pain as blood gurgled in with my air within my ribcage. My left side. Hopefully I could ignore it somehow, hopefully it would allow me to live just a little bit longer, my dear sons. The lame ninja and the one I had struck were now out of the battle. As I said before, despite the wounds I had sustained, they had recieved ones of their own as well. They were panting slightly through their masks. I struggled to control my own breathing, not knowing how soon blood in the lung could kill you I did not want to rush it. Slowly I backed up to the area where I had dropped the katana. Picking it up in my paws, I hefted the weight of it. I do not remember it being this heavy. My bones creaked slightly as I stared at the other two elite. They stared right back.

I tried to assess the situation through my fogged mind. One of them was the one that I struck on the wrist. I had managed to strike deep enough that his ability to grasp was hindered, he was essentially one handed. The other's most serious injury was one that I made on the neck and the chest. Neither was deep enough to do lethal work, but perhaps I could arrange it.

Tightening my muscles for a brief moment, I charged both of them. Mutated rat against trained assassins. They seemed momentarily surprised by my initiating but got over it instantly, charging me as well. Using all the gumption that I could muster, I leapt into the air. One of them swung his naginata straight at me. I twisted in the air like a cat, bringing the katana straight at his head. I did not manage to maneuver enough and the blade of his naginata pierced my side, into my abdomen. The katana, however, landed directly where I aimed; right between the eyes.

The other ninja struck as well. I had no choice considering my position but to accept the blow. Fortunately my earlier maneuvering made it a bit off. It slid down my back, slicing through muscle. My foot and leg, coiled like a spring, unleashed as I kicked him solidly in the chest with the very point of my heel with all the strength that I could muster in that one blow. It landed at the point where the ribcage met, breaking off that bit of bone and releasing it into his chest. I followed it with the pistoning action of my other foot. I felt ribs crack beneath the blow. The ninja coughed and blood spurted from his mouth, staining his mask.

Finishing both attacks simoutaneously I landed a few feet behind them, but surprised myself when the impact jarred me off my own feet and sent me rolling and flopping a bit on the ground. Practically holding my breath with the pain in my abdomen, chest, and back I staggered to my feet and whipped my head around to see the results. The ninja with the head blow was on the ground, blood forming quickly around his head and chest not moving. The other was having difficulty keeping to his feet and was clutching his chest, the blood stain on his mask growing with every breath.

I stared at them for a moment before I realized the coppery taste flooding my own mouth. My body was alive with fire, especially the area in my lungs. It was small, yet slowly becoming effective. It would kill me, eventually. Already I was having difficulty breathing, blood flooding that side of my lungs, giving the lobes less room to expand. At least I had my other one. Perhaps that would last me to the end of this battle.

A gentle clapping averted my attention elsewhere. I looked to see her, the witch approaching me. Karai was in her usual outfit, the one she wore before the Shredder was banished. She walked towards me slowly, clapping softly, her face blank of expression. I did not move save to stare at her, to drill my eyes into hers. She is the one that I came for, the one that I mean to kill.

"Impressive, old rat." She whispered softly. Stopping she looked me up and down. I could feel the blood at my feet and knew it was my own. I must not present a very intimidating sight. Apparently she thought the same, for she didn't look threatened. Turning her head she assessed the dying elite. "I did not expect you to make it so far, I was not even certain that you would come. Yet somehow you managed to dispatch my best warriors. You should not have come. You could have lived. But you will die today, I believe that you know that now." She looked at me. "You do know that?"

I said nothing, I simply glared at her. There was nothing to say. She had killed all of my sons, taken my family. No simple words would bring them back. None would make her understand or feel remorseful. Such feelings were beyond her. She did not understand the meaning of love, commitment, honor and family. No one could make her understand. The only thing that I valued her with at the moment was the ability to die, for that's what I would force her to do.

My breath came in wheezing, gurgling gasps. I knew that I was leaning slightly to one side and could feel my body trembling. My muscles were crying out in pain, my old bones screaming for rest, and my body sought energy that I did not have. I was weak. I knew that I was weak when I started this vendetta. I am old, small and have not eaten for quite some time. I knew that when I started and yet I ignored it.

She looked at me curiously, scornfully. "Why do you not speak? Are you afraid? You should be." Reaching behind her she withdrew her katana and assessed me coldly. "Perhaps you are in too much pain to speak. Your wounds do look serious. I will put you out of your misery, you are stinking my building." Slowly she walked towards me.

I did not hear her. I had ignored her as I ignored the ragings of my body. I knew that I was paying the price for not taking better care of myself before the eve of this battle, but suddenly I did not care. My eyes were slightly glazed as I watched her slowly approach me. My leg nearly buckled but I managed to stagger back a step, keeping my feet. She was right. I knew that I was going to die this day, but she was sadly mistaken if she thought to simply put me out of my misery. I would not go down that easily. I refused to. I had four reasons for coming here, four beloved reasons. A leader, an inventor, a jokester, and a rebel. Those were my reasons. Blue, purple, orange and red. I had came here to avenge them. My sons. My family. The only ones that I had ever truly come to love. The ones that I had raised from infancy to proud, honorable adults. Four proud, honorable adults who were dishonorably cut down in the prime of their life by a heartless enemy. A heartless enemy who stood before me now, who's biggest mistake was to make a feud with me! I came here with a mission and damned it to hell if I was not going to finish it!

She did not think much of my physical state. I could tell by her posture. I played on that, slumping my shoulders and relaxing my body. Let her underestimate me, it would cost her in the end. I could not stop the trembling. It did not matter. My mission was nearly over with.

She stopped in front of me, raising her katana for a mortal blow, her face expressionless save the slight curling of her lip. Though she could not see it, mine curled up as well. She would pay dearly for underestimating me at this moment. My body continued it's trembling. Not just of pain and weakness, but with pure unadultered rage. She would pay with her life!

The moment her body tensed to start the blow, I surged all of my energy into one of my own. With a roar of sheer pain and rage I swung Leonardo's sword straight into her chest. Due to my much smaller size, it was an upward blow. The blade entered just under the joining of her ribcage and continued upward to her shoulder. She froze for a moment. I wrenched the blade to the side, sluicing her internal organs like soup. She started to come down. I could see in her eyes that she knew she was going to die this day as well, that I would not be the only one. Rage split up her face and she managed to swing her blade as gravity brought her to the ground.

I paid the weapon no attention whatsoever. Yanking out Leonardo's katana I swiped it at her, as she was brought down to my level, aiming at her slender throat. Both of our blades struck each other simotaneously.

The steel of the katana bit into her neck, luckily I had enough strength left in my arms to make it a good strong blow, making the blade travel clean through. The moment it passed through the other side, however, my strenght left me and the katana flew out of my paws. At the same time her blade bit deep into the junction of my neck and shoulder, slicing downward with brutal force. I could feel my tired, brittle old bones crack under the onslaught. The sheer weight and force of it was too much for my tired old body. My legs buckled uselessly and I collapsed to the ground.

I flopped on my back. The headless body of Karai followed me, slumping on my chest. Her head rolled a bit off to the side. The empty eyes stared at me, devoid of life. I closed my own eyes slowly. The weight of her body on my chest wasn't helping my breathing, but I did not have the strength to push the body off. I wheezed in painfully. More blood gurgled into my lungs. It was pointless anyway, I knew that I was going to die. I could feel the blood pumping from my new wound in fresh spurts, soaking my already blood-coated fur. I was going to die.

But that did not matter either. I had achieved my mission. Karai was dead. My sons were avenged. Leonardo. Michelangelo. Donatello. Raphael. They were all avenged.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off my chest. Someone touched my cheeks. Slowly I opened my eyes to see Ms. O'neil's frantic face in my vision. She was saying something with urgency, but I couldn't hear her. It was as though she had lost her voice. She put pressure on the wound on my neck, Mr. Jones doing something to my chest, his face etched with worry. I could not feel a thing that they were doing, nor could I hear anything. It was as though I was separate. I slowly closed my eyes again, my mouth slightly agape.

When I opened them again it was different. I could still see Ms. O'neil and Mr. Jones, but I could also see myself, which was odd to say the least. Both of them were haunched over my still form. Why could I see myself, my own body? It took a moment to realize that they were attempting CPR. It puzzled me. Why would I be seeing this, why could I see myself? It was as though I was standing over them, watching it instead of being a part of it as I should be.

I then realized that all the pain, all the emptiness was gone. It was as though I was uplifted. Something touched my paw and I looked down. What I saw took the very breath from my lungs.

It was Michelangelo. He looked as he did when he were a child, his big eyes looking up at me. With a finger in his mouth he tugged at my paw again. "Daddy? Where'd you go? I missed you."

My eyes widened in immediate shock, my jaw dropped open. I was about to turn to him when I saw two more figures in my vision. It was Donatello and Raphael, the same age as Michelangelo, approaching me with bright faces. "Masta Splinter? You're back! Yay! We were waiting for you! We were good too!" Their faces split into grins as they reached for me with thier small arms.

It was then I could feel another small figure hug the back of my legs. It was Leonardo. His voice was muffled as he spoke into my robes. "We missed you Master Splinter. Really, we did. And they were good, too. I watched them, just like you told me to. I watched over them good. Why'd you go?"

I felt a fierce stab of pain and warmth in my heart at the same time. A painfully large lump formed in my throat, blocking all function. I tried to speak but could not. With a loud, strangled sob I dropped to my knees, and gathered all four of them up with my arms, hugging them to my bosom. Hot tears welled in my eyes and ran unchecked down my cheeks as I wept, hugging my sons so desperately that I knew that I could never, ever let go. Not again. They hugged me back, their little bodies milling in my arms as they did so many times before. I buried my face in the warmth of their little bodies, my eyes swollen with tears. I rubbed my cheeks against their skin, relishing the feeling. Never, ever could I let go. My embrace on them tightened and my weeping deepened. "I love you all, my sons. Never forget that, never. I love you all." My voice sounded rough and croaked, but I did not care. My sons were with me.

"Where did you go?"

"It does not matter, I am back and I swear that I will never leave you again." I managed to get out, my cheeks soaked with tears.

I was joyously unaware of everything but my sons, yet at the same time I had a feeling that this could not be real, yet it was somehow. I looked again at the scene below. Ms. O'neil was sobbing hysterically, pumping frantically at my chest as Mr. Jones administered breaths. I had a feeling that I could go back...I looked at my sons. Four eager faces grinned up at me.

"We saved you a spot, Daddy!" Michelangelo piped up.

"Oh?" I answered curiously. My face was split in half, my smile so wide. I do not think that I have ever donned such a smile in my life. This is a blessed moment.

"In the stars, remember? We saved you one, right next to ours!" Leonardo finished for him, his big eyes looking up at me. "Your Master Yoshi is up there too! We thought that you'd really like it."

A feeling of renewed warmth flooded my body and I knew. Suddenly I just knew. The stars. It had to be the stars. Nodding I smiled at all of them. "Well, you'll just have to show me then, won't you?"

"Really? You'll come with us? Yay!" All four of them milled in my arms once more, nearly knocking me off balance. I didn't care. I could do this forever. This was right. I was with my sons. I was with my family. The ones that I loved, more than life itself.

"Yes, my sons. Let us go home, to the stars."

* * *

A/N: Ah, somehow I feel that I messed up that chapter, yet at the same time I'm truly happy about it. How'd you like it? I know that it was longer than my usual, but I suspected that it would be from the beginning. There was simply no descent way to break this up. Let me know what you guys think about my first attempt at both angst and Splinter POV. 

Toodles!


End file.
